


Guiding the way when you yourself are lost

by carolc24



Series: UT/MH crossover nonsense [1]
Category: Marble Hornets, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Autistic Papyrus, Babybones, Big Brother Sans, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Papyrus is being followed by the Operator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7514797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolc24/pseuds/carolc24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Papyrus is being followed by the Operator.  Sans helps him deal with it.  (Should make sense even if you aren't familiar with Marble Hornets or the Slender Man mythos.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guiding the way when you yourself are lost

By the time Sans gets home, it’s late, and he’s exhausted. Hours of pushing blocks back and forth in the sweltering heat of Hotland is much more draining than he expected it to be, back when he first applied for the job. But today was still a good day, because he had time to stop by the garbage dump, and he even found a present for Papyrus.

Sans doesn’t know what to think about how Papyrus has been lately. He wants to think it’s just part of being young, that kids are always scared of the dark, and it’s natural for them to get a little nervous when they’re home alone. He has a harder time explaining why he’s found Papyrus in the middle of the woods, wandering around aimlessly, or why he freezes every time he hears someone coughing, or why he hardly ever sleeps at night even when the lights are on… So he tries not to think about it too hard, and just makes sure to keep him well fed and check up on him as much as possible. The latter emotionally drains him more than work could ever physically drain him, but he’d much rather feel lost and helpless than leave Papyrus to panic himself into oblivion.

He sets his present down on the table, then calls out.

“Papyrus? You still awake?” It’s a dumb question, but Papyrus seems to be calmer when Sans announces his presence before coming upstairs. He couldn’t forget Papyrus’s look of sheer panic and fear the last time Sans surprised him if he tried.

No response. Well, that wasn’t unusual. He walks up the stairs, making sure to make enough noise that Papyrus could hear, and knocks on his door. Still no response. Sans is unfazed. Typically, when he comes home late, Papyrus would curl up in the corner of his room or in his closet until Sans comes into the room with him, at which point he’d cling to him like a koala and ask him where he’d been. Sans hopes he makes Papyrus feel safer, at least.

He opens the door. No sign of Papyrus in any of his normal spots. Not in the corner, or under the table, or behind the bed. Probably in the closet, then. He knocks softly on the door.

“Hey Pap, I’m coming in, okay?” Still no response. He opens the door, and there is Papyrus, but he isn’t in his normal position, sitting in the corner with his back to the wall. He’s lying on the floor with his knees hugged to his chest, facing away from Sans. He still doesn’t say anything, but he curls up more tightly when the light hits him.

Sans resists the urge to sigh, or maybe to curse. Every time he thinks he can predict his brother’s behavior, he gets surprised with a brand new situation that he has no idea how to handle. Maybe the universe is mocking him for being the worst brother/guardian of all time, throwing more and more shit in his face until he’s blinded.

Even so, no matter how lost he feels, he needs to try. Papyrus at least deserves a brother who tries to care for him, even if he’s not very good at it.

“Hey, bro. Sorry I’m a little late tonight. You want some dinner?” Papyrus makes a low whining sound. Well, at least that’s something.

“Something happen?” Another whine, louder and more strained this time. Maybe he’s getting somewhere?

He reaches out and gently touches the back of Papyrus’s skull. Papyrus doesn’t react, but he relaxes a little when he starts to trace little circles with his fingers. They sit in silence for a while, then Papyrus speaks.

“…I did something bad.”

His voice is soft, and a little hoarse. Sans hopes he hasn’t been screaming.

“Can you tell me what it is? I promise I won’t be mad.” He keeps rubbing circles and waits for him to respond. Then, Papyrus sits up and faces him, and Sans has to bite down a gasp.

Papyrus is covered in cuts, all over his face, along his jaw, around his eyesockets, on his collarbone, his left humerus. They’re crooked, crisscrossing over each other, all filled with dust. There’s so much dust, on his face and his shirt and hands… He’s holding his left hand carefully, and that’s when Sans sees the symbol carved into the back of it. A circle, with an X in the middle. The symbol is bright red, showing the marrow underneath, and the dust on his hand mixes with blood.

Papyrus’s eyes are screwed tightly shut, as if he doesn’t want to see Sans’s reaction. Sans isn’t sure what kind of face he’s making. He’s barely aware of anything else, just the wounds and the blood and the dust, all over his little baby brother, and he can’t stop it, he can’t do /anything/-

Papyrus is crying. His face is buried in his hands, and he’s sobbing, and there’s dust clouding around his head, and Sans has to do something.

“H-hey, it’s okay, I’m not mad at you, um. Those look pretty painful, you want me to heal em?”

Papyrus moves his hands down, and Sans wipes off as much dust as he can (thank god he had a wad of napkins in his pocket). By some miracle, he’s able to heal everything except for the carving on his hand, which he cleans and wraps in some of the remaining napkins. There are bandages downstairs, but he knows better than to leave or move Papyrus right now.

“Feel better?” Papyrus nods. He’s stopped sobbing, but his breathing hasn’t quite evened out enough for him to speak. He buries himself in Sans’s lap and cradles his injured hand close. Sans rocks him back and forth, registers the fact that he’s shaking and tries to let his bones relax so that he doesn’t upset Papyrus more.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

He feels Papyrus tense. “I don’t want to say.”

“Why not?”

“…I don’t know. I just don’t wanna.”

Sans lifts him up and places him back down in a different position, so their eyes can meet. “Listen… I know it’s scary to talk about, but if you tell me, it’ll be easier for me to help you, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt like this.”

He doesn’t really expect Papyrus to answer. He’s always refused to answer questions about this sort of thing, saying that Sans wouldn’t believe him if he explained. But he still waits. Papyrus buries his face into his shoulder, and Sans can see leftover traces of dust collecting on his jacket.

Finally, he can’t wait any longer. He needs to ask the question. Make absolutely sure.

“Did you do this to yourself?”

Papyrus sits up suddenly. “I didn’t mean to!” he protests. “Really, I didn’t! I just- something happened, and I couldn’t see or hear or feel or move, I thought I was /dead/- and then it stopped, but I was so s-scared, I had to make sure it was over, and then everything hurt and there was dust everywhere and-” He stops. Looks down as his covered hand. “I hid because I thought you’d be mad. I’m sorry.” He’s fiddling with the paper wrappings, not looking at Sans. His voice has gone flat.

He wriggles out of Sans’s lap and pulls a knife from under the bed. It’s one of the kitchen knives, he realizes. Papyrus pushes it along the carpet towards Sans, still not looking at him. “I took it in case anything came into my room. So I could scare it away. I don’t want it anymore.”

Sans is staring mutely at the knife, fishing around for something to say. There are a hundred thoughts running through his head. A hundred things he should be doing right now. Taking the knife away, getting all sharp objects out of Papyrus’s reach, calling a real healer or a therapist or /someone/, finding a way to reach into his brother’s soul and crush whatever part of it that made him do this to himself. Right then, all he can do is force out some vague words of support.

“Thank you for telling me,” he says. Takes the knife, and moves it aside so he can scoot closer to Papyrus. “That was really brave of you. I bet you’re the bravest skeleton in the whole world.” Papyrus is in his arms again, and he’s tracing circles into the back of his skull as he trembles. “It’s okay now. You’re fine. You’re alive. Everything’s gonna be all right.” He isn’t sure if he’s lying, or trying to make it true.

Papyrus is rubbing his hands over the fabric of his jacket, up and down, up and down, ruffling and unruffling the fur. It must feel nice, all those different textures after not being able to feel anything at all.

After a while, Sans speaks up again. “Hey, guess what.” Papyrus makes another wordless noise. “I found something pretty cool at the dump today. Want me to carry you downstairs so you can see?” A soft hum, and Papyrus’s arms are wrapped securely around Sans’s neck. Lifting him up takes more effort than usual, after using so much healing magic, but he’s able to stand up, take the steep staircase down, and deposit Papyrus onto the couch. Papyrus willingly lets go, but his eyes don’t leave Sans as he retrieves the item from the table.

It’s a puzzle book. It looks as if the human who’d owned it only finished the easier ones and then threw it out, because the first few pages were marked up, but that still left hundreds of pages of puzzles. It’s Sudoku, Papyrus’s favorite newspaper puzzle. Sans would bring him the Snowdin paper and he’d always finish the puzzle in minutes, complaining that it was too easy. Alphys had told Sans that humans sometimes had whole books of puzzles, but he hadn’t been able to find any until now.

Papyrus doesn’t react at first. Really, he looks far too tired to process what he’s seeing. But then he’s flipping through the pages, his movements getting progressively lighter. He looks up as Sans and asks, “Are they hard ones?” His voice is more energetic than it’s been in days, and Sans almost laughs.

“Yep, I think so. Didn’t look too hard, though. They’re probably way too hard for me.”

Papyrus closes the book. “I’ll save them for tomorrow,” he announces. “Can we have dinner now? I’m hungry.”

They eat sandwiches and crab apples on the kitchen floor. For “dessert”, Sans covers a slice of bread with whipped cream and sprinkles, and makes a show of eating it in two bites. Papyrus acts disgusted, but he eats the one Sans makes for him. He still glances out the window every now and then, and he’s sitting like he’s prepared to stand up and run at any second, but he’s breathing, and that’s enough.

He shuts his eyes while Sans puts real bandages on his hand, and he doesn’t make eye contact with him afterwards. Just sits awkwardly on the floor and picks at the bandage.

“So I don’t have work tomorrow. You wanna sleep in my room?”

“I don’t wanna sleep.” Papyrus hunches on himself. He’s tripping over his words now, and his eyelids are drooping, but he’s tense as a wire.

“Well then, you can just lie down with me. If anything bad happens, all you have to do is wake me up, and I’ll be right there. Okay?”

Papyrus still doesn’t look at him, but he nods. “Okay.”

He makes it for about five minutes of lying still on the mattress before getting up and pacing around the room. Sans listens to him knocking on each wall, opening and closing all of the drawers, mumbling to himself (or maybe he’s too tired to form words properly). But he doesn’t leave the room.

Sans is drifting off when he feels the mattress shifting. Little arms wrap around his middle and lock themselves together. He can feel Papyrus’s face pressed against his chest, can feel his jaw moving as he keeps making formless noises. Sans doesn’t have the energy to move much, but he rolls his head forward and touches it to the top of Papyrus’s skull.

Papyrus is still hugging him the next morning. He’s fast asleep.

It’s the least lost Sans has felt in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is at uselessshoelacefacts.tumblr.com if you want to talk about UT or MH. I have a lot of ideas for this crossover/AU thingie, so I might write more about it at some point.


End file.
